


Being Human

by asaloki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asaloki/pseuds/asaloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p>Prompt: Sastiel, Fallen!Cas is hurt (not badly) and Sam is the one to look after him.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://waldostiel.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Written for [barefoot-winchester](http://barefoot-winchester.tumblr.com)

It’s no one’s fault when Cas falls. It could be considered the second time he’s fallen since meeting Sam and Dean, if one were to include his fall from grace. However, this time, when he falls, he’s human; he has only gravity and his own clumsy footing to hold accountable, and that makes Sam nervous. Cas has surprised him and Dean both, so far, with how well he’s coped and adapted to the life of a human… He takes it all in stride – the hunger, the exhaustion, the loss – and learns how to make the best of what he has available… Or at least that’s how it seems to them because Cas has never complained aloud.

In the weeks since Cas first came to them as a new human, the brothers have learnt to relax and breathe easy, no longer walking around on eggshells with Cas, waiting for the inevitable emotional breakdown…

Until now.

It’s eerie, in a sense. Cas doesn’t make a sound when he stumbles over the curb. He doesn’t even make a sound when he collides with the hard ground, the loud thud causing both Sam and Dean to wince—but not him. “A little help here,” Cas grits out, and Dean almost falls over himself in his haste to aid him. Sam blinks out of his reverie and immediately offers Cas a shoulder, is about to propose that the other lean on him for support when Cas snaps moodily, “Not you. You’re the wrong height.”

Like it’s _Sam’s_ fault.

Still, it’s the most emotion Cas has offered since he fell and Sam tries not to take it to heart when Cas leans on Dean instead. “He’s got a point,” Dean teases as he helps Cas hobble to the Impala. “He’d end up dislocating his arm, trying to use you as a crutch, Sammy.” He looks far too pleased and so Sam scowls, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as Dean bundles Cas into the car.

It’s a silent ride back to the motel. Sam, at Dean’s insistence, sits with Cas in the back, though he has no idea why. Aside from being more irritable than usual, Cas appears to be fine… But Sam still sneaks the occasional glance in his direction, noting his pallor and pinched expression when he thinks no one is looking, and Dean drives slow, careful.

It would be different, if it was Dean or Sam who’d fallen. Heck, Sam would rather it had been him than Cas, who’s still so new to being human—fragile. It’s unnerving to think that a former Angel of the Lord has been reduced to something so easily harmed, knocked down by fortuity of all things. Sam realises there’s a big difference between a battle wound and this.

He wonders if Cas is thinking the same.

 

Reaching the motel, Dean assists Cas into their room.

Sam almost points out Dean’s mistake, that he should have taken Cas to the single room, not the twin, but decides not to… After all, he supposes one of them will have to watch Cas this night, at least, for his mental state has not been known for its being the most stable. Besides which, his ankle needs to be looked at and dressed, and it’s too late to bother with moving him around after that. It makes sense, and when Dean looks up at Sam, he sees that it was an intentional move.

He expects Dean to volunteer, to send him away so he can take care of Cas alone, but Dean surprises him when he starts to collect his own belongings. Sam’s mouth is open in shock and Dean simply grins when he notices, slaps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and says, “You can handle this… I’m not sitting around playing nurse for a cranky ex-Angel of the Lord. I wouldn’t suit the outfit.”

No matter Dean’s excuse, Sam knows better than to believe it. Dean is leaving so Sam can be the one to take care of Cas. “Sure… That’s— okay.” Sam cringes as the words leave his lips. He knows how ridiculous he sounds and Dean’s amused snort makes him huff. “I mean, whatever. One of us has to be responsible here, for Cas’ sake.”

Dean takes his leave then, throwing a careless, “Get well soon!” over his shoulder to Cas, who does little more than grunt in acknowledgement from the bed he’s perched on, not seeming to care that his chosen crutch has decided to go off gallivanting in his time of need.

Sam sets to work and Cas immediately protests. “This isn’t necessary,” he tells Sam, who kneels before him once he’s set up what he needs and starts to clean the cuts on his palms first. Cas allows him to (though he doesn’t stop grumbling) and even allows Sam to remove his trousers, tending to the shallow cuts on his knees too. It’s only when Sam moves to look at Cas’ ankle that the other man puts up a real fight. “No, Sam.”

Leaning back, Sam looks up at the former angel in confusion. “No?” He repeats. “Cas, I have to see how bad it is. It’s important that I look.”

Cas’ shoulders hunch. “It hurts,” he confesses. His bottom lip trembles in a way that makes Sam’s heart ache.

Sam tries to smile as reassuringly as possible, determined to take care of Cas. “I’ll be careful,” he tells him. “I promise.” Cas doesn’t look convinced but when Sam reaches to remove his shoe, he keeps still and silent and allows Sam to pull down his sock and inspect the sprain and swelling around his ankle. Sam hisses in sympathy. “Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than Cas. “We’re gonna have to keep an eye on the swelling.”

Cas frowns. “Sam?”

Sam moves to stand, his hand resting briefly on Cas’ shoulder, placating him. “It’ll heal, Cas,” he informs the other man, who seems to be worrying. “It’ll heal fine on its own… For now, I’ll get some ice and painkillers. Sound good?” Cas nods distractedly and Sam eventually returns with the promised ice, wrapped up in a clean towel he found in the bathroom. He offers it to Cas, who looks unsurprisingly dubious. “Hold it to you ankle,” Sam advises, showing Cas how to do so. “Keep it held there for the next ten minutes. Does it feel a bit better now?”

Cas smiles, a small reserved smile. “Yes,” he concedes.

Sam smiles too and sits down on the bed beside Cas. He stares at his own feet so as not to spend an indecent amount of time staring at Cas’ bare legs. “It could’ve happened to anyone,” he offers, hoping his words will serve to provide some small comfort to Cas.

Cas, however, remains forlorn. “It could have happened to any human,” he amends Sam’s sentiment, bitter.

It’s true but Sam shakes his head even so. “Cas,” he tries. “I know it can’t be easy, but surely being human isn’t all bad?” The withering glare he receives in return makes Sam recoil, his hands folding on his lap.

The two of them sit there, side by side, in an awkward silence for the remainder of the time and then Sam takes the impromptu icepack back from Cas, putting it carefully to one side. Cas frowns but says nothing. “Looks like it’s time for painkillers and sleep,” Sam fills the silence, fetching the pills and some water, which Cas takes from him without comment.

He’s about to turn to his own bed, resigned to the night having been a total failure, when Cas clears his throat. He looks back and Cas’ cheeks have gained a subtle pink hue. “I…” He begins, hesitating in how to word his request. “My clothes are in the other room. Dean took the key with him.” When Sam only furrows his brow, even more confused, Cas decides he needs to be more pointed in his approach. “This shirt would be very uncomfortable to sleep in, Sam. I would not be averse to wearing one of yours instead.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Oh! Oh, of course. Yeah. Sure. No problem!”

He fetches Cas a clean t-shirt and watches as he changes into it, settling himself back on the blankets more comfortably—or as comfortably as he can hope to get, given the current circumstances. Sam swallows the lump in his throat at the sight, of Cas – grouchy, irritable, human Cas – wearing one of his t-shirts. It’s far too big, slipping off his shoulder and reaching halfway down his thighs. Sam returns his gaze back to Cas’ face, opens his mouth to ask if Cas wants some sweatpants to wear too, but the question dies on his lips and his breath hitches.

Cas looks back at him levelly, so openly, so sincere, and Sam almost forgets to breathe. “I can see that there are many good humans,” Cas says, “like you, even if I’m unable to see the benefits of being human myself… Thank you, Sam. You’re a good friend.”


End file.
